Coming Home
by Joshua 'DV' Berkeley
Summary: An Air Force pilot with rainbow hair returns home after many months overseas. With her leg ruined and her spirit crushed, she had been hoping for a warm welcome. Instead she comes home to an empty house, and too many bad memories.
1. Chapter One: Homecomings

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> Chapter One: Homecomings/ Story: Coming Home/ by Joshua-GI-Carson/-/

Twenty-eight months ago I stood in this very terminal, embarking on a journey that would change me forever. Limping to baggage claim with my crutches, I stopped and stooped low, grabbing my pack as it came around the...thing-y. People all around me looked at me like I was some kind of hero, and I suppose the Air Force Pilot Uniform and Medal of Honor made that concept true and reaction justified. I continued to limp past them on my crutches, getting outside finally and breathing in deep. I'd missed this place so much. High Pointe would always be so very dear to me, and no matter how long I would be gone from this place it would still be home to me.

The War was finally over, and I was coming home for the first time in twenty-two months. At the age of 17 there was a draft, a huge draft that took anyone who could go. Out of High Pointe's population only seven of us were eligible, me being Lucky Number Seven. The War had been going on for three years before the draft, and then for twenty-or-so months after. I'd enlisted as a Pilot, and got my wish and then some. I flew so many missions I lost count, and earned myself the monicker, "Airborne Devil."

Twelve months into my deployment I came face-to-face with Death himself. I had a full chalk of soldiers to drop off, and with that done I was to turn back and basically leave them for dead. The mission they'd been given was ill-conceived to begin with, but when they radioed for extract I was the only one close enough to respond. On my way back to them I took an RPG to the tail rotor, but my co-pilot said we would be able to make a smooth landing and get out safely. I nodded and turned my attention to the squad, informing them that we were going down. They affirmed my declaration, and I radioed to base that there was a squad of men cut off from escape and that my bird was going down. Command responded and said there was nothing they could do, so I made a last-second decision. I screamed at the co-pilot to bail, and he reluctantly did so, snapping his parachute on the way down and landing safely. I lost track of him after that, though, because I focused my attention on the entrenched enemies keeping my boys pinned down. Aiming the nose down at the group I fired off every round I had and then dive-bombed the area, giving the boys enough of a distraction to Evac the H.V.I.'s out of the hot zone. Now obviously there was the fear of a Black Hawk Down incident, with me being dragged through the city streets as they torched my bird. Of course, I was never the type to give up easily, and drawing my P226 Combat Pistol I opened fire through the ruined windshield. I had lost feeling in my left leg, but I still fired accurately, desperately trying to disentangle myself from the warped metal.

My actions that day saved the lives of the squad, who'd gotten intel that led to a decisive victory in the next town over, which just so happened to be the enemy capital. The H.V.I.'s I'd risked my life to save were in fact the Iraqi Presidential Family, and despite being alone in a hostile environment I held off the enemy for seven hours, before finally running out of ammunition and ditching the bird, setting off the rigged explosions once I was a safe distance away. My left leg was all-but dead and I'm not sure how far I made it before the blood loss took over and I collapsed in a back alley. What I do remember is waking up an "x" number of days later with no idea where I was or how I got there. I eventually discovered I was in a field hospital in Kandahar Province, and that my leg wound was a crippling injury.

I would spend the next sixteen months in physical therapy, slowly regaining control of that damned limb. I had a gnarly scar there, shaped like a lightning bolt that ran up my thigh from my knee, and when just under my panties. It was just a pinkish scar by the time I was going home, but at my Medal of Honor Ceremony I had seen almost everyone there, everyone but the six girls I wanted to see the most. My best friends couldn't even be bothered to show...unlike their families they hadn't even visited me at Brooke Army Medical Center and hadn't been there when I was transferred to Walter Reed National Military Medical Center. It was the same thing this time around; when I got out of the airport and limped on the crutches to the terminal bus, I knew I would be riding it all the way home and have no one waiting for me when I got there.

"Hello-oo?" I called as I unlocked the door, shifting awkwardly through the front door and shutting it behind me. I hung the keys on the hook by the front door and limped down the front hall, flicking on the light as I passed it. Thumping my pack down onto the couch I limped into the kitchen, pulling open the refrigerator door awkwardly and smiling so wide it hurt. I withdrew with a root beer and an apple pie, knowing it was Granny Smith's work from the little note she'd left. Granny Smith was my best friend's grandmother, but seeing as how my own family wasn't around anymore she took me in. I'd been living with their family ever since my parents died, Granny Smith being my godmother, and so this place had become like home to me. Limping back to the living room I picked up my pack and limped to my first-floor bedroom, changing out of my uniform and into a pair of gray sweatpants and my USAF sweatshirt. I showered before doing so, of course, and I folded up my uniform and placed it on my bed, old habits dying hard. I couldn't help but to fiddle with Medal around my neck, vowing to never take it off.

The house was so quiet and remote, I had nothing to keep my focus. I limped into the bathroom once more and stared at my face, seeing the small scars on my chin and neck from shrapnel. In order to stay in the Air Force I'd had to cut off my rainbow-colored hair, and it had grown back to it's natural brown state, though faded bits of the rainbow were still present. I found the pixie cut look to be very attractive and that it complimented my pale skin nicely. I was toned like a soldier, now, and had lost a lot of weight only to have it be replaced my muscle. My breasts had grown nicely in my time away, and as I looked at myself in the mirror the term "sexy" came to mind, something I would never have used to describe myself before. However, that's how I thought I looked, and so I left the bathroom and went back to my root beer and apple pie. Finishing up the delightful treat I tossed away the aluminum tin and cleaned the fork, drying it and placing it back in the utensil drawer and then recycling the glass root beer bottle; to think that before I left for the Air Force I was the world's laziest houseguest.

I sensed rather than heard a presence at the front door, and instinct kicked in. I drew my P226 and balanced against the wall without my crutches, swaying slightly. Looking around the corner into the front hall I saw a shape against the front door, meaning they'd somehow gotten past the storm door. I ducked back behind the corner as I heard the front door burst open, steadying my breath. The door clicked shut once more and I heard the wood panels squeak under the weight, accompanied by the light THUMP of cowboy boots. A heavy sigh was drawn from the lips of whomever was around the corner, and as they neared ever closer to my doorway I jumped out from behind cover and winced as my bad leg bore my weight for a second.

"FREEEZE, MOTHERFUCKER, HANDS!" I shouted, more from pain than anything else. The figure before me screamed loud and proud, drawing a can of mace and making to spray me. My training kicked in and I smacked it away, grabbing the wrist and, despite the screaming pain in my leg, judo-flipped the other person into the living room. Turning around, I pointed the pistol at her and then gasped as I realized who she was. My "dearest friend" Applejack lay on the floor before me, coughing and groaning as she placed a hand to her back and arched it.

"What...what just...?" The farm girl moaned.

"Oh...sorry 'bout that, AJ. Still trying to adjust." I sighed and holstered my pistol, hobbling over to my crutches and sighing with relief as the pressure left my leg finally. The figure before me froze and turned her head fully, standing uneasily and picking up her fallen Stetson. Her eyes met mine head-on, and realization dawned on her face as she recognized me. I gave her a mock salute, and then her eyes were drawn to my neck where the dog tags and Congressional Medal of Honor hung. Her eyes widened and she stumbled over to me.

"Dashie...Ah can't believe yer home...or still alive...Ah missed ya so much! " She took my hands in hers, something more than friendship in her eyes. I yanked my hands away and limped backward, seeing the pain in her eyes as I did so.

"Yeah? Well if you missed me so much why didn't you come visit me? Why didn't any of the girls come see me? Why didn't you come to my Medal of Honor Ceremony? Why has no one I once called friends and been through everything they needed with come to see me when I needed them? Answer me that, Applejack. I'm waiting, and have been for over a year." I was beyond angry, and rightfully so. These girls had relied heavily on my loyalty time and time again, drawing strength from my own and taking their sweet time to heal while I wasted away offering what support I could. I could have died four times over if my friend Susan had not forced me to take breaks from helping the other girls. Needless to say I was fucking pissed off at all of them. Applejack's mouth opened and closed like a fish out-of-water, desperately trying to piece together an explanation.

I launched into an attack, crying freely and letting my voice break here and there, too emotional to put up false bravado like normal, "And your family visited me, you know. Apple Bloom, Big Mac, and Granny Smith managed to show up while you didn't! Rarity's parents Country Lights and Glitter, along with Sweetie Belle, managed to make time to see me while she didn't! Even Spike and Twilight's parents Night Light and Twilight Velvet came to make sure I was healing well, without Twilight! Pinkie's dad Igneous Rock and Fluttershy's mom Prancing Fields took a break from their respective jobs to come and deliver me some cupcakes and brownies, while Pinkie and Fluttershy were nowhere to be seen! Not to mention that Vinyl, Lyra, and Bon-Bon came to make sure I was okay, and I don't even know them as well as you guys! So where the fuck where my friends when I need them, huh? You know what, don't fucking answer that right now. I'm gonna go away and calm down before I say things I don't want to. Enjoy your life, bitch." I snapped at her. I fucking snapped at my best friend. The War had changed me to the point where I ranted at the girl who had once been my surrogate sister. We were so close before this, and knowing that she hadn't even tried to come and see me when I needed her most, how none of them managed to carve out time in their oh-so-busy schedules stung so deep I almost shot myself right there. I had lost too fucking much in The War to risk losing them and having to live with it.

I hobbled out the front door, grateful I had kept my combat boots on. Rocking forward on my crutches I pulled out my cellphone and called Sunset, the only one of my old friends that bothered coming around. She came to pick me up not soon after and actually helped me get in her car! 'I mean come, on! How can I ask for more than that?' I wondered, and my answer was I couldn't. Sunset had been right there with me through all of the recovery stage and the thousands of procedures that were required to fix me. She helped me get rehabilitated into society and kept me smiling. I owed Sunset Shimmer my life, and the craziest part was that she didn't even know it nor think my admiration and gratitude were warranted. This girl was like myself, and she had given me a taste of my own medicine; let me just say it tasted great. Having someone work themselves to near exhaustion just for you was such a good feeling I could finally understand why my friends came to me with all of their problems. Sunset drove me away from the farm and took me to a locally-owned Steakhouse in town, resulting in me squealing and hugging her viciously. After we realized she'd swerved into the other lane and caused someone to honk angrily we both broke out into laughter.

"Thank you so much for this, Sunset. I don't know how to explain just how much this means to me." I told her sincerely after we had taken our seats. Sunset couldn't have chosen a better place for us to eat, a place I had missed so dearly over the past twenty-two months I felt like I could die right now and be totally fine with it. The smell of grilling meat was intoxicating, the spices that were added were exotic and aromatic, the smells of frying french fries and chicken was unbelievable, and the sight of 8 oz Tenderloin T-Bone Steaks drove me to the point of literally drooling. I licked my lips and blushed, glancing sheepishly at my leather-clad friend, surprised to find that she wore the largest smirk I'd ever seen on her face before.

"Well. I guess someone missed her steaks," Sunset said with obvious mirth in her voice. I blushed more and nodded shyly, glad that my Medal was tucked under my sweatshirt. However, the moment of companionable silence would not last, as I was inevitably recognized by Big Joe, the Steakhouse's owner. He sidled up to me and personally took my order, shaking my hand and announcing the return of High Pointe's newest hero. As he yanked me to my feet I stumbled in his grasp and let my sweatshirt slip, revealing the unmistakable blue band of the Congressional Medal of Honor. A thing to remember is that High Pointe's small town feel was not due to its lack of technology insomuch as the close proximity of the town, and its saint-like support for small businesses. High Pointe was founded by closely-knit farm-folk, and that closeness has stayed a major part in High Pointe's charm ever since. This meant everyone in town already knew I had been awarded the C.M.o.H. and over half of them understood what the crutches were for. Among those gawkers were Vinyl, Lyra, and Bon-Bon, and I quickly waved them over. So now it was the five of us just sitting and chatting amiably, and though some of the patrons still gawked at me from time to time I couldn't think of a situation in which I'd be more relaxed.

"DASH?!" A voice squealed from behind. I almost choked on my soda, but whipping around I recognized my wingman from when I flew formations in F-18E Super Hornets and F-22 Raptors; a guy of my same age and a fellow High Pointian(?), Derpy Hooves. Derpy was nicknamed "DT" because of reasons no one really remembers. Amazingly, though, together his eye, personality, and yellow-blonde hair only contributed to his charm and intrigue. I leapt from my chair and tackled the poor guy, not even caring that I wouldn't be able to get up on my own. DT let out a small yelp as he was slammed against the doorframe, but smiled and hugged me tight, and I could feel the wetness of his tears on my shirt as we both cried into each other's embrace. DT was so named because no one knew his true first name. He'd introduced himself early on as DT, and that was how we called him.

The last time we'd seen each other had been two months before my last flight mission. The two of us were partaking in bombing runs on several enemy encampments, and unsurprisingly he was my wingman for that run, too, though he was in a F-18E and I was in a bomber. Our flight squadron encountered moderate resistance from enemy fighters, and in order to protect the bombers four of the eight F-18E's and F-22's broke off the main flight pattern and engaged the enemy. The last time I saw DT he was engaging two enemy fighters and had taken down one, but while he engaged the second a third came onto his tail. He struggled valiantly, but my closest friend for the course of the war lost his dogfight, and was turned into a hunk of burning metal and jet-fuel. I'd cried for hours after, barely managing to continue the mission. Of course, after completing it, I slipped into a state of apathetic excellence. The boys in my flight team knew something was up because I stopped cracking jokes at their expense and stopped gambling with them as well. DT's loss fucked me up, and now he was just...he was just here.

"Oh my God, DT, I missed you so much," I sobbed into his shoulder and he sobbed into my hair, gibbering nonsensically. We eventually fell silent and just held each other, taking in the familiar warmth and comfort of the other's presence. To be ripped so violently and suddenly from each other's lives, only to be planted just as suddenly back into them, was so jarring and so welcome we were rendered helpless because of it. Eventually we became aware of eyes on us and DT helped me stand and walked me back to my table. Sunset pulled DT a chair and sat it right next to me, so he and I could relish in each other's presence and still enjoy our food. The way DT and I ate was like the way wolves ripped into their kill. The steak was so freaking succulent it brought tears of joy to my eyes.

"Holy fuck I missed this," DT moaned through a mouthful of food. We talked about what happened to us after the last time we'd seen each other, and while DT looked impressed as I explained how I'd gotten my C.M.o.H, I was even more stunned as he explained his time as a captive. The dude was still dressed in his combat uniform and had his British Medal of Valor around his neck (he got it because he saved seven British P.O.W.'s over the course of ten months), but a quick run to the bathroom resulted in his changing into a pair of faded blue jeans and a long-sleeved, dark-blue USAF tee. Vinyl, Bon-Bon, Lyra, and Sunset were staring at us with a sort of horrified fascination, apparently marveling at how much food we could shove in our mouths in one go. DT and I, noticing this horrified attention, blushed and slowed down considerably, taking our time with each bite and finding that we enjoyed it even more. I had moved on from the steak and potatoes, asking Joe for a double-quarter pound burger and a heaping plate of french fries. Amazingly, DT ordered the same thing, and we fist bumped as the food arrived. The other four girls just smiled knowingly as DT and I savored this second course in a more controlled manner.

"So. You two could almost be twins," was Lyra's comment.

"Yeah, and here I was thinking you and Applejack were the closest two people on the planet," Vinyl said to me, surprisingly removing her headphones. I bristled at this comment, though a look from Sunset told me I should wait to tell them.

"I can't tell you guys how much I missed you. It really felt like High Pointe had lost a major part of itself. Twenty-eight months is way too fucking long," Bon-Bon took my and DT's hands, staring at us until we began to blush. The sincerity in her eyes was so intense, I don't think I've ever seen such honesty, even in AJ's – I mean Applejack's – eyes.

"Yeah? Wow...I didn't think we were that influential..." I said quietly, drawing the attention of all the girls, but not DT. There was a time when my pride would not have let me say that; a time when I would have taken it in stride and given a conceited response. Clearly that time had come to an end, and the only way that would have happened would have been during my tour of duty or my recovery stage. I'd been majorly humbled during both, so it was a toss-up in my mind.

"Of course you are! Rainbow, even though you don't interact in excess with people outside your main group of friends, the rest of us still feel close to you. Maybe its a part of High Pointe's mystique, or maybe the fact that we've all grown up together," Lyra added, while Vinyl nodded in agreement, "Either way, you and DT are as integral a part of High Pointe as the Mayor is. Your accomplishments alone have given the town such a high standing, not to mention the combined accomplishments of you and your friends. Everyone here feels close to you in some way, RD." Sunset was nodding by the end of this statement as well, looking at me with something akin to admiration. I looked over at Derpy then, and his blush told me that he was feeling the same way I was.

"I mean...we didn't do anything heroic. We aren't heroes. The real heroes...they never come back," Derpy mumbled this quietly, almost like he read my mind and put the thoughts to words. Unbeknownst to the both of us, these feelings were extremely common in recipients of medals as prestigious as Congressional Medals of Honor or Medals of Valor. Heroes like that...we feel like we just did what any soldier would do, even though some wouldn't. Some pilots would have followed orders and retreated when ordered instead of asking to go forward. Some P.O.W.'s would wait for their ransom, or escape and save only themselves. People like DT and I were exceptions, as were the hundreds of heroes that came before us. Every Soldier, Airman, Marine, and Sailor was a hero in their own right, but some of us did things that went beyond that.

"Of course you guys are heroes! How could you think for even a second that you're not? I mean come on!" Sunset began, her nostrils flaring slightly.

"You, Derpy, saved seven British P.O.W.'s! You risked your life for people you didn't even know! That's pretty fuckin' heroic if you ask me," Vinyl nodded her head in agreement, her eyes burning with intensity. The DJ usually didn't speak at all, so for her to say so much showed she really meant it all.

"Rainbow Dash you risked your life to save a squad sent on a suicide mission, and after you crashed you kept up fire until you absolutely couldn't anymore. You didn't have to do any of that, but you did-" Lyra began with a smile, looking at her girlfriend Bon-Bon.

"-Whether you believe it or not you two are heroes and deserve every bit of praise and then some. Whether you believe that or not is irrelevant, to be honest," Bon-Bon finished, and all four girls nodded in unified affirmation. DT and I blushed and looked down.

"Besides, you guys are fun to be around. Anyone who didn't come to visit you, Dash, isn't worth knowing." Sunset winced as my little sister Scootaloo spoke these words and approached from the booth whence she previously sat. It was at this moment that I heard the tingle of a bell indicating another patron had entered the burger joint, and half-turning in my chair I froze like a mouse mesmerized by a snake. I couldn't think or feel; was pretty sure I couldn't breathe. There before me stood my old friends, no, my old family. My mind was blank and I felt Sunset's hand grab my shoulder. Quietly and quickly Sunset explained to the others why I was having this reaction as opposed to running toward them and hugging them all, and they especially took notice of how I looked at Applejack. Just as I whipped around and tried to hide, I heard something I'd sworn today I never wanted to hear again. Something awful, something so terrifying I almost sobbed with fear upon hearing it. I know I cringed, and I know the six people at my table saw it and would respond to it before I did.

Pinkamena Diane Pie's shriek, "DASHIE YOU'RE BACK! LOOK GIRLS, SHE'S OKAY! GROUP HUG!" Terrifying, am I right? 


	2. Chapter Two Moving On

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> Chapter Two: Moving On/ Story: Coming Home/ by Joshua-GI-Carson/-/

Chapter Two: Moving On

In unison my five friends plus Scootaloo stood up and moved in front of me the instant Pinkie Pie finished screaming. They stood resolute, a defensive barrier that melted my heart and increased my love for them tenfold. My old group of friends met my new group of friends, and I was thankfully behind the second group and not caught in between like in most cliches. These guys directly in front of me knew how much pain the other group had put me through, and apparently they would be damned before seeing it happen again, especially so soon after getting back to my beloved home. I hadn't told Granny Smith or Apple Bloom yet, mainly because I knew it would break their hearts, but I had been planning on finding an apartment ever since the third month went by with still no sign of Applejack. I had already purchased an apartment, and was going to begin packing my stuff once I got back to the farm. I knew Derpy and Sunset would definitely lend me a hand, so it wouldn't be too hard to move out in one night, right?

"Hey! What are you doing? I wanna see Dashie, lemme through!" Pinkie Pie's demand brought me back to the present, and even as I drew breath to speak Sunset rose to my defense.

"Really? Huh, you didn't seem too bent on seeing her while she was in recovery, did you? Why the sudden determination? Where was that determination when she needed it most?" Her questions left Pinkie's eyes brimming with tears and prompted Rarity to stomp forward and berate the leather-clad girl before her.

"How dare you be so high-and-mighty! You are just as much as fault as we all are, however!" The fashionista huffed and stomped her foot as she finished speaking, her face flushing comically.

"Actually, Rarity, Sunset was there. Through all of it. She was by side from the moment the nurses let her to the moment they absolutely wouldn't. She slept beside me when I got scared, she kept me smiling, and she kept me believing in the possibility that my best friends would come and visit at any moment. She kept me out of a dark spiral of depression and helped me re-integrate myself into civilian life.

"She brought me here after my fight with Applejack because she is a real friend that would never abandon me in a time of need. She knows things about me now that none of you ever bothered to know. Without her, I definitely wouldn't be here. And she thinks that sentiment is undeserved. She's a true friend. Everyone standing before you five has been there for me throughout my recovery and my fight against depression.

"Your families all came to visit me numerous times and they never once gave me a message from you guys, and I'd ask them to give you guys one and they'd come back saying there was no response. I tried to overdose, and almost died, but Bon-Bon and Lyra told me stories about what possibilities might lie ahead for me in the future, so I listened to them and here I am.

"I don't want to see any of you girls for awhile, and while I'm at the farm later packing my things, I don't want you to be there, Applejack. I getting an apartment, so I'm moving out tonight. All of you girls give love to your respective family members for me, okay?" I finished speaking and grabbed my crutches, hobbling painfully out the door.

The others moved with me, keeping my old friends at bay as I exited the Steakhouse. I was helped into Sunset's car and she drove me and Scoots back to the farm; we were followed by Derpy, Vinyl, Bon-Bon and Lyra. The drive was quiet, but Scoots held tightly onto my arm and wrist from the back seat like her little life depended on it. I hadn't told her yet, but three days ago I had legally adopted her so I would have full custody over her. She was now, legally, my daughter, and I knew she would absolutely fall in love with this development, as she had actively called me "Mom" long before now. I had fantasized quite often about what life would be like: two girls taking on the world, a mother and her daughter. I hoped to get a good job and then apply for my Air Force pension. I was aware of how difficult day-to-day life would be, because despite my long recovery and re-integration, I was still a little awkward. When Sunset got me back to the Apple Family Ranch I, flanked by my five friends and Scootaloo, entered the homestead, ready to begin packing. The lights were turned out, so as I walked past them I turned them on-

"SURPRISE! WELCOME HOME!" The Apple Family all jumped up and screamed these words, causing my bewildered heart to melt from the love I felt. They all smiled big and warm at me, but their eyes began to show confusion as they noticed I was dressed like a civilian.

"Oh, right, I already got back. Sunset took me out to eat at Joe's Steakhouse. Granny Smith, you remember Derpy Hooves, right?" I asked, shoving DT forward despite his shaking his head no. Granny Smith smiled and took his face in her hands, kissing his forehead despite having to pull him down to do so.

"Miss Dash?" A deep voice asked me, and turning around I smiled at Big MacIntosh. He smiled back, and scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck, "Um...where's mah sister? She said she was gunna go lookin' fer ya, but she ain't back 'n yet you are."

"Oh, Big Mac...um...Applejack and I aren't...we aren't friends anymore. Not for now, at least. I can't get over their abandoning me just like that, you know?" I said this nervously, looking fearfully into his eyes and expecting to find a disappointed look. I was surprised, however, by his gentle smile, a smile shared by the rest of the Apple Family. They seemed to know something about Applejack that I didn't, so I stomped disrespectfully up to Granny Smith and grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her away from Derpy, "What? Why didn't she come see me? Answer, old woman!" I yelled, overwhelmed by the pain from standing and the confusion today had brought I was out of patience. Every member of the family looked at me like I'd just committed blasphemy, but Granny Smith waved each one back calmly. She took my hands in hers, eyes warm and comforting.

"Now listen here, child. Y'all have ev'ry right ta be upset, but that don't mean ya can take it out on us. We're not the ones that caused ya s'much pain, youngin'. That would be my granddaughter and yer friends. We was all here fer ya. Come with me, sugar plum. Ah have summin I wan' ta show ya." Granny Smith's voice was gentle and loving, proving she did see me as a surrogate granddaughter, just like I'd hoped.

"Okay. Lead the way, Granny. Could you get my stuff?" I asked Derpy, who nodded and waved to the others that it was time to get my stuff packed. They all disappeared in the general direction of my bedroom, and I turned back around to find Granny walking into the dining room. Damn that lady was quick. I followed after excitedly, almost bouncing as my mind reeled from the numerous possibilities. Entering the dining room I saw Granny Smith sitting on the window bench, a small item in her hands. It was a box, and I walked forward eagerly, taking a seat beside her.

"Now listen t'me, Rainbow Dash, Ah know ya 'member yer Ma 'n Pa, right? Y'all 'member how happy them two were. Well, 'fore they divorced, yer Pa came ta me 'n handed me this here box. He asked me that if y'all was like him when ya were old enough, would Ah please give this t'ya. Well, Ah think yer like him, Rainbow Dash. Yer brave, lovin', loyal, confident, defiant, independent, strong, and beautiful. You would make yer mother jealous, and yer father feel inadequate. You are exactly what yer parents wanted ever since they first told my daughter that yer mother was pregnant.

"They were best friends, yer mother and mah daughter. Grew up right here in High Pointe, same as you and Applejack. My baby's name was Sweet Apple, and she lived up ta her name s'well. Yer mother was Rain Blossom, 'n yer Pa was Rainbow Blitz. Little Sweet Apple was the kindest, warmest little girl you ever did meet. She was able ta real in yer Ma real good, and they told each other everythin'. When they went to college, ya'd think th' world was endin'! They cried and cried fer days while yer Pa and Sweet Apple's husban' tried to get sense back inta them. Those four years were somethin' I'll never forget. This place, High Pointe in general, was s'quiet without 'em.

"When they came back, yer mother dropped the bombshell that she was pregnant, and the next day evr'y one in town knew it. The entire town showed up fer th' baby shower! You were the most spoiled baby in existence! More spoiled than the Princesses!" Granny took this moment to laugh obscenely, and I laughed with her, swept up in the thrall of her story. She was telling me everything I'd ever wanted to know.

"But...y'all know th' sayin', 'All good things must come ta an end,' right? Well...this was no exception. Ya see...Rainbow Dash, yer Pa thought he...he wasn't yer real father. He fig'red yer mother had got with sumone else while they'd broke up, and had no idea she was pregnant until she 'n yer Pa were already back together," She stopped for a moment to let me process this, and I slumped against the counter, thinking it all over. I motioned for her to continue, "She told him that wasn' true. Dashie, yer Pa stayed right with her. Believed her right away, 'n was there when y'all was born. He nev'r left yer mother.

"The heartache came when mah daughter...Sweet Apple didn' believe that yer mother was tellin' th' truth. In bad faith, she tried ta git yer Pa ta run a DNA test with y'all. He said no, but she got one by usin' one o' yer hairs 'n one o' his. She found out that yer mother had lied. He wasn' yer Pa, 'n Sweet Apple...Sweet Apple made sure evr'y one knew it. Y'all was only four." My eyes widened and I stared at her, shocked beyond belief. I had no idea how to process that. My Mom's best friend had betrayed her so horribly...'How could Sweet Apple do something like that?'

"What happened next?" I asked Granny Smith, my heart aching for my mother and father.

"Well...yer Pa moved back ta Seattle after th' divorce. Yer mother was heartbroken, thinkin' she'd nev'r see him 'gain. However...he was in th' papers two weeks later. He'd joined th' Air Force, followin' the dream he'd had since boyhood. When y'all turned twelve we saw him 'gain, durin' a flight show. Y'all loved 'em s'much, 'n yer mother loved ta spoil y'all. He was a member of the Blue Angels, yer favorite flight team. That was too much fer her ta take, Ah think. Her death wasn' suicide. When she got back home, she dropped y'all off at my house 'n told me she needed ta git drunk. Ah unlocked the cellar, 'n th' next mornin' I found her there, dead on th' floor from overdosin' on th' alcohol." Her story came to a close, and my heart plummeted. My parents had died apart and miserable, or at least my mother had.

"What about-" I began, but Granny talked over me.

"Yer Pa?" she sighed, chewing on her lips, "He...he died during a flight show. He was distracted that day, as he'd been ta yer mother's funeral a few days b'fore. He crashed int'another jet 'n...died. Ah'm so sorry I didn't tell y'all what happened t'him, but Ah knew that if Ah did it might make you give up on your dream o' flyin'. Ah didn't want that, so Ah told ya he died but Ah wasn't too sure how exactly."

"I...I'm not mad, Granny. It's been too long and I've got too much going on to be mad about something like this. Actually, I'm glad you didn't tell me how he died, because then you would have had to explain all of this to me as well. So thank you for not being entirely honest, and for choosing today to finally come clean. I really needed to hear something about something else today. So...Mom and Sweet Apple never made up?"

"Never. Sweets and Rain died with a major loose-end 'tween 'em. S'why Ah want ta see you 'n Applejack make up. Ah don't know what that girl was thinkin' when she blew off comin' ta see ya, but Ah will def'nily find out tonight. Would y'all like me ta tell ya what I find?" Granny Smith smiled and caressed my cheek gently, my close closing a little. I kissed her forehead.

"No, Granny, I'll talk to her about it tomorrow. I have to go looking for an apartment, now, though..." I said this awkwardly, but Granny began laughing long and hard. Something had clearly amused her, and I looked at her questioningly, "What?"

"Well, sugar plum, you're father left me this," she handed it to me, and I recognized my old house keys, the ones the social worker had taken from me when I moved to the Apple Family Ranch after my mother died. I stared at it in awe, my eyes wider than saucers.

"Gran...what...?" I couldn't even get the words out. I was just shocked into silence as she placed it in my waiting hands.

"Yer Pa wanted ya ta have his old place. 'N he wanted y'all ta have this as well," as she spoke Granny Smith reached into her back pocket and extracted a small black box. The box was a familiar to sight to me, having watched romantic movies with Scootaloo and the feisty girl's friends on many occasions, "This was yer mother's weddin' ring, youngin. Cherish it and take good care o' it, ya hear?"

I nodded, taking both objects and holding them like they were liable to break apart at the slightest fumble. These items were so precious I just wanted to stare at them forever. I was moving into Mom and Dad's house, my old house, and was taking Mom's wedding ring with me. I looked from the objects in my shaking hands to Granny Smith and back, still processing.

"I...Granny, thank you so much! Wow! I'm moving back home! That'll put me just inside the town. So I'll be only about 30 minutes away. Wow. It'll feel so weird waking up and not working for hours..." my fear and uncertainty was known, as Granny Smith was always able to see right through me.

"Sugar plum, jes 'cause y'all won't live here no more don't mean y'all can't come visit 'n work," her words and implication were gentle and she sounded amused. I could tell she really wanted to slap the back of my head like the good ole days, but she restrained herself.

"Oh. Right. Eheh...sorry, I just...I can't believe this! I'm moving back home!" I grabbed the elderly woman and bear-hugged her, taking in the scent of homemade vanilla that she somehow possessed. Her bony arms went around me as well, and we stayed like that for a long time. It was me who pulled away first, and my shining eyes met her amused ones as I did so. I smiled wide and headed back out of the kitchen, getting my things and helping the others load up Sunset's car. On my last run back inside began, I took my time and reflected on the massive chunk of my life that had been spent here. My eyes welled up with fat and hot tears as I walked into the front hallway, and I didn't brush them away; rather, I let them roll down my cheeks. Approaching my bedroom for what I perceived to be the last time, I observed it's emptiness and leaned against the doorframe for awhile, gazing into the bedroom and marveling at how it seemed like no one had ever lived here at all.

"Looks strange, don't it?" a high-pitched voice, probably belonging to a little girl, with a country twang came from directly beside me, and I jumped a little at first, wincing as the action caused me to balance lightly on my hurt leg, "Oh, sahrry, Dash. Didn' mean ta startle ya. Ah jes...can't believe y'all're ac'chly movin. Ah don't want ya ta leave...y'all jes got back..." her voice wavered at the end, and she sniffed several times as her emotions overtook her. Hearing the little girl cry broke my heart, and I painfully got down on one knee, my hurt leg stretched out behind me, and hugged the red-head close to my chest. She nestled into my chest, sniffing and shaking from her sadness.

"Hey, whoa there, A.B. I'm not really going anywhere, you know that, right? I'm still going to be in High Pointe, I'm still going to come and visit, and I'll still be working around the ranch and the orchard. Just...not for a few weeks. I want to be away from...Applejack. So I think I'll stay in town and at home, try and unwind. I have about three more weeks on these crutches, then I'm good. We can still hang out and all that, I just won't be living here." I explained all of this in a kind voice, rubbing her back and holding the back of her head, gently combing my fingers through her hair. As her sniffing and shaking came to an end, Apple Bloom seemed to realize something and pulled back fractionally.

"Ya changed," she stated simply, her adorable light-orange eyes widening by the second, "What happened 'tween y'all 'n mah sister?" I was deeply confused by her question, and wondered what brought it on. Unless she'd overheard my conversation with Granny Smith, which was likely.

"Um...n-nothing happened between us, what makes you ask?" I smiled nonchalantly, though I believe it came off as more of a grimace. Apple Bloom motioned for me to stand, coming over to help as I did so. The process was slow and painful and extremely humbling, but I eventually got to my feet. Apple Bloom ushered me inside the empty room, and closed and locked the door behind us. I reached the bed and turned around to face her, cocking an eyebrow impatiently.

"Ah know sumthin' happened 'tween you an' mah sister, and if it's what Ah think it is then Ah can help y'all move on," Apple Bloom stated this proposition in much the same way as a negotiator would, laying everything down on the table at the get-go and telling me to process it all. I scoffed at her last words, knowing it would take more than the logic of a little girl to change her opinion of Applejack at this moment.

"Listen, squirt, not that I think you don't understand things, but I really don't think you can help," I said simply, careful to keep my voice in neutral. I didn't want to anger her or upset her, but I also wanted her to understand that I didn't want her help with this. Of course, I should have known better than to think Apple Bloom would actually listen to me, and if I didn't let her help in the open then she, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo would do it anyway, only without telling me; this had lead to many an embarrassing situation in the past. I found myself imagining all the different things that could go wrong if I refused her help, and quickly decided that despite her next response, I would accept.

"Oh really? Well, Ah think that Applejack has romantic feelin's fer y'all, an' y'all feel the same way. Ah think y'all had a fallin' out 'fore ya left, an' that's why y'all decided ta go in th' first place. Ah also know that Applejack didn't come ta see ya 'cause she wasn't in High Pointe at th' tahm news o' yer injury reached th' she knew or not is 'side the point, she prob'ly couldn't get 'way from whatever it was." Apple Bloom's words knocked the air out of my lungs, leaving me staring at her open-mouthed and wide-eyed. She smirked arrogantly, crossed her arms sassily, and curtsied sarcastically. She's been spending too much time around Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle, I imagined. I nodded a few times, trying to piece together an intelligent response.

"Well...I mean...er...see...the thing is...what had happened was...oh fuck it. You're right, Apple Bloom. You're right. You got me. Applejack and I...we were dating for awhile. I don't want to hide that anymore. It was her idea, and I guess I should have known from that moment that something was off, but I didn't and look where it's taken me.

"This isn't how I wanted to end up. I wanted to be with AJ, grow up some more, go to college, get married, adopt a kid...once the kid is old enoughI would then audition for the Blue Angels...I wanted to be happy and be with Applejack. None of that can happen now. I hate her, and I deserve to hate her. I'm allowed to hate her. The way she broke up with me...through a letter left tacked on the jar that we'd been saving money in to one day buy an apartment in High Pointe proper...I still have that fucking money. Kept in my pocket the entire time I was deployed.

"She didn't even show up when I got back, and didn't come to see me a single time I was in the hospital. Each time I asked you guys to ask my 'friends' to come and see me, you all said none of them responded or anything. Then I get back and they all act like nothing's wrong? Bullshit!

"You know what? Whether she could get away or not, she should have gotten away, regardless of the consequences. I've done that for each of them countless times. My friends come first, no matter what!" I declared, shifting on the crutches for the umpteenth time. I growled and looked down, staring at my old and worn boots.

"Yer not with 'em right now," Apple Bloom pointed out gently, her childish logic making me think more than I did when around people my age or older. I sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, setting the crutches to the side and burying my head in my hands. Apple Bloom came over and rested her head on my lap, drawing my fingers to mess with her hair. She was so much like her sister in this regard, wanting her hair to be messed with and wanting to cuddle. She and her older both loved proximity with their loved ones, apparently an old Apple trait. Perhaps loneliness and depression was a Dash family trait, as my father and mother both seemed to have been lonely a lot.

"No, I'm not. Because they're not my friends for the moment. They are all exceptions because right now I hate them. I don't know for how long it will last, but I want nothing to do with them," I explained this quietly, looking down but high enough to avoid Apple Bloom's eyes, "In fact, once I leave here, I'm going to be living in my parents' old house here in High Pointe."

"Oh...that's...cool. That seems really, really cool," Apple Bloom said sincerely, and I laughed and nodded.

"Yes, it really is," an hour later I found myself exiting my old room, Apple Bloom asleep on the bed. I exited the farmhouse, giving each of the still-partying Apples a hug as I went, and closed the door behind me. My friends were waiting for me, the vehicles packed and ready to go. I frowned as I limped away from the door, the clatter of my crutches being the loudest sound out here. I entered Sunset Shimmer's car, with her help of course, watching as we drove up the dirt road and under a large wooden arch, painted white. A large red and wooden apple sat in dead-center of the arch, signifying this as Apple family territory.

I was blind to it at the time, but I had just crossed from one part of my life, a part full of constant company and relative freedom, into another part, a part full of great uncertainty and moderate solitude. It took me a long while to understand the significance of leaving that orchard behind. 


	3. Chapter Three: Recollections

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> Chapter Three: Recollections/ Story: Coming Home/ by Joshua-GI-Carson/-/

The day I first met Derpy was solidified in my mind. I can't believe he and I had come so far since then; gone from fellow orphans to best friends. There was a time, long ago, when I thought I was in love with him, and boy am I glad I wasn't. I can barely tolerate him as is, imagine if I discovered I was in love with him! No, he's great, but eventually he became more like an annoying older brother. My thoughts dragged me back to that day as I sat alone in the front seat of my car.

TEN YEARS AGO

The counselor seemed concerned that I was seeing my sister, as he'd asked me earlier in the semester about any family I might have, and I explained that they were dead.

"Ms. Dash, you know that your sister is dead, correct?" he asked me, pulling out a clipboard and pen. The counselor was a middle-aged man with a scruffy mustache, tapering at the ends, and bore a small amount of stubble on his chin. He wore a corduroy dress jacket and dark blue jeans, with gray and black running shoes.

"Well, she were dead-" I began, but he interrupted me.

"'Was dead,' Ms. Dash," he said kindly, clearly extending an olive branch as he made the comment. I was not angry, I knew I would have to learn the language fluently at some point.

"-right, was dead, but now she not," I finished the sentence, wincing at the obvious mistake. He clicked the pen and rose an eyebrow at me.

"'Now she is not,' or, 'she's not,'" he corrected once more.

"Right, sorry sir," I mumbled. I looked down at my black shoes, embarrassed and disappointed.

"No no, don't be. You learn better from mistakes than from successes," he said, coining his signature phrase with a sly smile. His tone drew my head back up and drew my eyes to his.

"I know. But yeah. She's alive now," I finished with a grand smile, finding it hard to believe myself, but believe it I did.

"I see...is she here right now?" he asked, and he sounded a bit more concerned than usual.

"No, she's outside," I told him, sitting back more on the chair and looking around the quiet room.

"Hm...could you have her come in here?" his voice had regained it's kindness, and he was preparing to write some more.

"Sure. Embers, c'mon in!" I called to her. I saw the door open, and shushed her as she slammed it. The counselor looked at me oddly, but I didn't pay much attention. I took Embers' hand and sat her next to me, smiling at the counselor, "Dancing Embers, meet Dr. Chaser."

"Hello, Ms. Embers. Can you tell me something about you? Something your sister can't?" he asked of her, but wasn't looking at her. He was looking at a spot just above her head.

"Oh, she was-" I began, but the look on his face was stern enough to shut me up.

"I asked Ms. Embers, Ms. Dash. Something you wouldn't know about her."

"She doesn't want to answer!" I shouted, standing up and glaring at him. He looked a little concerned, and I sensed he was not concerned for himself inasmuch as he was for me.

"Rainbow Dash, please. Sit down, and tell me what's wrong," his voice was gentle, and my wave of anger crashed onto the shore of his calm, dispersing and leaving no indication of it's existence.

"She don't want to answer the question. She's fidgeting because you looking over her head. She won't answer until you look in her eyes...that's her chin...that's her forehead...that's her ear...that's her nose...her eyebrows...there you go. She still won't answer the question." Throughout all of this Dr. Chaser had been very patient with me, but now he just kinda...he got angry, very angry.

"What? Why?" was all he said, but it had myself and Embers quivering in our shoes.

"U-u-um...sh-she don't have any..." I whimpered pathetically, and upon hearing this Mr. Hampton calmed right down.

"She does not have any what?" he asked, correcting me once more.

"Eyes." I explained, looking to Embers for confirmation. The eyeless girl nodded, and she had a strange protrusion from her body, two actually. They were jagged pieces of steel, some guts hanging off their shiny tips and the skin beneath her clothes was badly burned and horribly cut. I realized with horror that my sister had died again, right next to me, just like the first time. Her mouth opened and a horrified scream rang out of it; after a second I realized the scream was coming from me. I fell off the sofa and scrambled backward into the wall as the figure closed in, and I screamed that she wasn't real and none of this was in fact real. She seemed satisfied with that desperate cry, and showed clemency, allowing me a respite from her horrible visage.

I came to the realization that Dr. Chaser was kneeling over me, hand outstretched and just centimeters from my shoulder, and I shot forward to wrap my arms around him, taking comfort from his muscly build and warmth. I sobbed openly into his shoulder, babbling nonsense about my sister coming back and then turning into a monster of horrendous proportions, slipping into my native German as I usually did when greatly upset. I couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes yet, and my chest felt like it was bursting.

I was sent home, then, and it was the Caretaker's grandson that came to get me. The Caretaker was what the orphans called the elderly woman that ran the orphanage, though she encouraged me to speak her true name, Granny Smith. She was a homely lady, well-loved by all of us, and her grandson was just as likeable. He didn't speak much but to his sisters, and me, surprisingly. When he did speak, his voice was deep and melodious, and his topics were deep and insightful. One would be hard-pressed to find something to dislike about him.

"Howdy there, little lady," the teenager greeted, tipping his big Stetson to me. I smiled shyly and climbed up into the truck beside him, placing my hands in my lap and looking at the carpeted floor of the beat-up pickup truck.

"H-hello Mr. M-Mac..." I whispered, stuttering a bit as I attempted to get myself situated on the lumpy seat. I twiddled my thumbs anxiously, knowing he wasn't usually one for conversation. Today, however, he seemed to have some things to say. Just as I began to settle into the silence after about twenty minutes of silence, he shot off a question at me. I admit I jumped in my seat and squeaked out pitifully.

"Why am Ah takin ya home?" A relatively simple question, but his tone implied that depending on my answer I could be in real trouble.

"I-I-I s-saw someth-thing today...w-with Dr. Ch-Chaser..." I stuttered, chewing on the inside of my cheek as I finished speaking. Big Mac's entire posture changed, and he pulled the truck onto the shoulder and turned to look at me, eyes intense and angry.

"'Scuse me? Did he lay'a finger on ya? What did ya see? Did he co'urce ya ta do anythin'?" Big Mac was drilling into my already-drilled mind with this torrent of questions, and once he'd fallen silent I explained what had happened, start to finish, and then let some tears escape.

I heard someone yelling at me to stop crying and get up already, and I knew that it wasn't Big Mac because this voice was feminine, 'Come on, you wimp! I mean, really? You're just going to sit there and cry? You're a disgrace.'

As my story came to an end, Big Mac's gentle-giant nature came out and he hugged me close, despite his discomfort toward being around crying girls. I'd been good friends with the big guy for awhile now, and knew that he had a kind heart despite being a little rugged at times. Being moderately-illiterate for most of his life (home schooled), when Big Mac went to school in 8th grade he was wholly unprepared, and was made fun of for his obvious lacking in education. He knew what it was like to be in my position; outcast-ed because of something you couldn't help. For me, though, it was worse. You see, because I was German and didn't know their language very well the students decided I wasn't worth knowing at all. In addition, since Anna and I had vastly different schedules the only friend I might have talked to was never around. None of this is really relevant, of course, but I feel like it's a good idea to include it, anyway.

"Listen here, lil' lady. Ya lis'nin'?" He asked me, gently pulling up on my chin so I met his kind eyes.

"Y-yes..." I responded, unable to look away from his face.

"Them things y'all are seein' ain't real, ya here? It's just a figmen' o' yer 'magination. Yer mind is tellin' ya that y'all need ta face somethin' hor'ble that happened, right? Well, all ya have ta do is face it. Then them monsters, go 'way, see?" Big Mac gave me a simple, friendly smile, and I couldn't help but to return it. He winked at me then, and put the truck back into gear, pulling onto the road and taking us back to the ranch.

I lay on my cot, lumpy and hard, hands behind my head and one leg propped up on the other. The orphanage was an old building, rotting in parts and rusting in others. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something about this orphanage seemed off, like some terrible event lay just around the corner. Squinting my eyes closed tightly I gave vent to a strangled groan, feeling like my mind was going to explode. My legs ached, like they wanted to be used for the work around the ranch/orchard or be worn out from running instead of laying here in this damn bed.

"Y'okay?" The voice was sudden and unexpected, and I jumped back from the shock of it. I had lashed out in a reflexive punch, but instead of meeting flesh and bone I met what seemed to be a glove. When I calmed down in the next few seconds, I looked into the eyes of my "assailant" and realized that I knew him.

"Sa'y miss, I didn' mean too startle youz. Yuh just sounded like yuh whuh in pain," he spoke with a slight accent, clearly masked by time and desperation. The accent gave his slim and muscular build a rugged quality I knew would have Embers scoffing and Scootaloo swooning if they could hear it. The boy wore a peculiar ensemble: a baseball cap with a white "N" and "Y" on the front, the main color of the hat being navy-blue, a brown leather jacket that was a size too big, a pair of loose-fitting, well-worn blue jeans and a pair of old white tennis shoes. The boy was chewing on something, and upon realizing that I was staring at him he opened his mouth and displayed near-white teeth and a piece of chewed-up gum resting between the upper set and lower set. My eyes widened as I eyed the contraband, and, looking around while my heart pounded, I prayed not to see any sign of an official.

"What are you doing, Dummkopf? You know that's against the rules! Spit it out,schnell!" I ordered him, hissing in a low whisper; my eyes were closer to full moons than normal size, now. His face scrunched up in a cute fashion, titling his head and sucking the offensive item back behind his teeth. He clearly had a strong distaste for this particular rule, and looked over at the list of rules we had been told to memorize and recite at a moment's notice. The rest of the orphans had already done this, but for some reason this boy couldn't be bothered.

"Oh. Yuh one o' dem brown-nosuhs Pa told me 'bout, ahren' yuh, Dayuh? Listen he', I ain' 'bout ta get intuh a fight 'bout it, soz yuh should jus' drop it," he gave me a look and turned on his heel, heading back to the boys' side of the room. I scrambled to my feet and listened to the patter my skin made on the tile floor. The floor was a little cold, but my feet were burning up for some reason so it felt nice. Without even removing his shoes first, the boy crashed back onto his pillows and stared at the ceiling, blowing a bubble in his gum surreptitiously. I came to stop beside him, un-rumpling the front of my shirt as I sat on the foot of his bed, staring into his mysterious dark-gray eyes. I put a hand on his knee, and while he flinched fractionally away his face showed no emotion.

"I am not a 'brown-noser' as you say, saukral, I just believe the rules should be followed. The Caretaker does so much for us, and all she asks in return is for her rules to be followed." I explained myself patiently, giving him a genuine and rare smile. He nodded and looked away, chewing a bit more avidly at the gum while I awaited his response. I would be surprised by his next question, however, and the rest of the ones to follow.

"Whuh-does dat mean anyway, 'sauskrel?' Is it Deutsch?" his eyes were wide with wonder, staring directly into mine once more as his darted back and forth in excitement.

"Yes, it is Deutsch. It means 'pig,' a dem-...demea-...mean-..." I was struggling, my hands waving out before me and my levels of embarrassment and shame rising.

"Demeanin'? Dat whut yuh mean?" he asked, his accent beginning to make him sound as uneducated as Mark's did. I suddenly realized why both Mark and this boy had never been too out-spoken: their accents were so thick and rich that people judged them by that aspect alone, ignoring everything else.

"Yes!" I exclaimed, smiling wide again as he tugged loosely on the brim of his cap in my direction, "It is a term of...of uh-...affec...tion...a-ffec-tion." I beamed as I sounded out the word, and for some reason the boy smiled back, a light blush tinting his cheeks.

"Oh. Whut about uh...whuh's duh wuhd? 'Dumb-cop?'" he looked at me sheepishly, like he was hiding something that could turn out to be embarrassing. His smile had been replaced by a slight frown as he tried to mentally answer the question before me. I didn't question it, I just prepared myself for his reaction to my answer.

"It means, 'stupid,' or, 'dummy,' and it's pronounced Dummkopff," I said nervously, looking at his entire face this time despite the strong pull I felt coming from his eyes. He nodded slowly, that small smile claiming his features once more.

"Huh. An' he' I was dinkin' Noo Yawkas whuh rude to each odda," his accent was endearing for a reason I could not place, and I wanted to hear more of it. I stared at him and considered the various ways I could get him to say more, shortly finding an option that might work.

"So...what's your name, where do you come from, how long have you been here, how old are you and how did you know my name?" I fired off each question at a reasonable speed, scooting closer as I did so. I made sure to do it slowly and surreptitiously, moving only one inch at a time. By the time I'd stopped asking my questions I was almost sitting on his foot. I loved how he began to squirm fractionally in discomfort, from either his foot almost being sat on or the fact that I was so close to him.

"Woah, slow down, would yuh? Lem'me answ'suh fuhst," he rolled his eyes and held up his hands in a gesture that I needed to calm down, "My name is Derpy T. Hooves but ev'ry body calls me Derpy. I was bohn in Brooklyn, Noo Yawk, an' I only came down he' 'cause Pa didn' wannuh look aftuh me no mor' aftuh Ma died. I was brought he' aftuh a few yea'uhs in fostuh cay'uh. I've bean he' 'bout five yea'uhs, now. I'm 16, an' I knew yuh name 'cause it ain' 'zactly a state secret." He winked at me, and I knew that if I wanted more information I would have to be more conniving and deceitful. At the time I believed I was up for the challenge.

"Wow...that's quite the life there. What was it like, this 'Noo Yawk' you lived in?" I asked, and he busted out laughing. I mean, he really let loose. He roared in laughter and clutched at his chest, and I couldn't help but to give a bewildered laugh of my own. Once he finally regained control, Derpy gave a hearty sigh and kept the smile.

"Nah, it's not Noo Yawk, I mean it is...eh...lemme show yuh," he said, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a pencil. He searched around his cot for a piece of paper, presumably, and found it at the bottom of his desk drawer. He then proceeded to write out, 'New York,' and displayed it to me.

"New York," I said aloud, looking up into his cheerful face. He winked and pulled the paper back, writing something more on it. Derpy pushed it back to me and winked, leaning back against his pillow. Reading the note, I blushed deeply as it read: 'Central Park, New York, 10 years from this moment.'

"You gon' be theh?" he asked me, not meeting my eyes. I ducked down and practically crawled into his lap, craning my neck so I was looking into his eyes. Derpy blushed at my actions, but held my gaze all the same.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," I responded sincerely, and then rolled off him and the cot and sauntered back to my own space. I felt his eyes on me, and when I turned my head around slightly I expected to see him gazing at my backside; I was wrong, he was staring at my hair. I hadn't realized until now that I was standing in a ray of light. He stared at me like I was an angel, and my blush increased. I waved a tiny wave and went outside instead, needing a break from that boy and this...whatever was happening to me.

Present Day

"RAINBOW DASH!" I felt my shoulder being shaken wildly, and looked up blankly into the sky-blue eyes of Pinkie Pie. I knew there would be no escape for me now.

"Hey there, Pinkie...wanna go for a ride?" I asked meekly. 


	4. Chapter Four: The Truth at Last

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> Chapter Four: The Truth at Last/ Story: Coming Home/ by Joshua-GI-Carson/-/

"So, Pinkamena, why don't you tell me where you all were when I needed you?" I asked, after about thirty minutes of silence. Glancing over at Pinkie while changing lanes, I took in all the visual tics that betrayed her calm demeanor. She was nervous, anxious, maybe even scared. This didn't make sense to me. If anything, I should be the one who was scared. Here I was, about to finally get some answers to the questions I'd been wanting to ask for months, and Pinkamena Diane Pie, the girl that had helped me overcome my fear of the dark with her "crack-up at the creepy" theory, was afraid to answer a simple question.

"Well, Dashie...you have to Pinkie Promise Promise not to get mad."

'Okay, something is definitely not right here,' I thought, before nodding my head at her words, "Okay, Pinkie, I won't get mad." Despite my words, Pinkie didn't seem any less concerned.

"Say the words, Dashie. That way you can't go back on them," she said, meeting my eyes for the first time since the car had started 32 minutes ago.

"Alright. I, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Promise not to get mad. 'Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.'" I felt pretty foolish saying those words, but it seemed to have the desired affect. Pinkie literally slumped against the seat, twiddling her thumbs and, presumably, mustering her courage.

"The first reason is that we were on a safari in Africa, courtesy of Fluttershy's boss at the animal shelter. We didn't even know you were back until after we got back, but that wasn't for another 8 months. Africa was awesome, by the way. When we tried booking appointments to come and see you, they were either cancelled, overridden, made on days where no visitors were allowed, or some other reason. We actually tried coming in person, but were forced to leave..." clearly, there was something else. Something she wanted to hide.

"Okay...what else?"

"Well, Dashie...Applejack did some digging into your family history," the pink-clad girl began, messing with the bright-pink and yellow-striped leggings she wore; over the leggings she wore a hot pink mini skirt. Her top was a pink top that hung off one shoulder and had a spaghetti strap going over the other. Her pale-blue eyes wouldn't meet mine for awhile, but when they did they flitted back and fort between mine, "We, um...we found out where your father is..."

I almost crashed the car. The brakes squealed and I just managed to pull onto the shoulder, turning on the hazard lights and letting my heartbeat settle back down, "My father is dead." I told her, staring at the steering wheel.

"Oh, um...s-see, that's where you're wr-wrong Dashie...your dad is alive. Granny Smith...she didn't tell you because...well..." she sounded uncertain, like there was something coming that would upset me greatly. Ever since we'd first met, Pinkie had been in tune with my emotions as though they were her own.

"Well?" I asked after awhile, "You can't just drop a bomb like that and then not tell me. Why did Granny Smith lie to me?" my voice was quavering as I held back tears.

"When we spoke to him...about you...he...hedidn'twanttoseeyou and gotmadatusforbringingyouupin, well, in thefirstplace," Pinkie shot off the last part like a machine gun, each syllable punching a new hole in my heart, turning it from a sponge to a block of Swiss cheese. My father...my flesh-and-blood...didn't want to see me. A million different things ran through my head all at once, chief of which I put to words.

"Okay...but why were you gone for so long? Why didn't you contact me? Why didn't your families tell me?" I couldn't keep the pain and sadness out of my voice, and so Pinkie leaned over fractionally and covered my shaking hand with one of her own, clad in a pink fishnet fingerless glove.

"You were going through recovery. We thought that if you found out where we were, it could jeopardize the recovery process," the words were definitely Twilight's, as she was the only one of my friends who would use the word jeopardize, "But then, we followed your dad back to his house in Washington State, and it was in the middle of the forest so we lost cell service. We kept trying to convince him to come see you, but he point-blank refused! After a month of making appointments to see him and trying to convince him, we finally gave up."

'My father couldn't be that immoral, could he?' I had to admit that I didn't know much about him. All I knew was what he had been like when I was a child. People change, after all.

"Pinkie, half of that story sounded like complete bullshit," I said candidly, looking at her with cold eyes. She flinched, but didn't move her hand away from mine.

"I know! I know it does! But you have to believe me, Dashie! Come on, look directly at me and tell me I would willingly stay away from you when you really needed me." her eyes burned with a fierce intensity, warming me all the way to my chilled core. Of course Pinkie wouldn't do that. When I'd really needed her, she'd always been there. And yet, the entire story about my dad seemed straight out of a prime-time TV show. My dad was a trademarked villain, apparently, and my friends were the protagonists. Actually, scratch that; it was more like a crummy soap opera.

"You know I can't do that, Pinkie, but that doesn't change the fact that this story sounds made-up. I can accept that something kept you from coming to see me, but this doesn't make much sense." I crossed my arms, pulling my hand away from hers.

"B-believe me, Dashie, I thought the same thing while it was happening. We h-hadn't told anyone we were leaving, and those who figured out we were leaving didn't know where we were going, so that's why they didn't tell you anything. They didn't want you to worry. We didn't want you to worry. When we finally decided to give up, a blizzard hit while we were in the mountains! Flights were delayed, roads were closed..." She was non-verbally begging me to believe her, and if we'd been standing I swear she would be on her knees looking up at me with prayer hands.

"I...Pinkie, it's really hard to believe. How could every appointment have been cancelled?" I asked, raising an eyebrow in my trademarked "I'm calling your bullsh*t" look. Pinkie fidgeted, her fingers twitching like they wanted to hold something.

"We couldn't figure that out, either! Not until Twilight brought up the possibility that someone might not want us to see you. Then we had to answer the question of who. It took awhile; lots of speculation, some investigation, a little spying, and even less blackmail. All we managed to find out was that one of your emergency contacts told the hospitals not to let us see you at all." Pinkie's eyes welled with tears, looking down and away. I found myself slipping into the old routine as I wrapped my arms around her, comforting her while I still felt miserable. Soon, however, Pinkie turned the tables and hugged me. She comforted me, brushing the hair from my face.

"I missed you, Pinkie. You and your crazy fashion-sense," I gave vent to a sob and hugged the shapely girl before me, putting my head into her shoulder and my arms around her waist. She smelled of vanilla ice cream and freshly-baked cookies; courtesy of her job as a baker for Mr. and Mrs. Cakes' sweet shop. I took in the sweet scents, relaxing greatly and going practically limp against her. My head spun as I tried to process the information Pinkie had dumped on me.

"Oh Dashie, I missed you too!" Pinkie assured, hugging me just as tightly as I was hugging her. We stayed like that for a long time, finding comfort in the others' presence and embrace. I'd missed Pinkie-hugs something fierce, and was perfectly content to remain in her embrace for as long as possible. Unfortunately, life continued on as normal, and I'd forgotten to shut off the car. That meant my car had been using gas this whole time, and it was the obnoxious ding! that broke up our hug.

"Crap." I muttered, throwing the car into gear and driving back on the road. The drive to the gas station was full of loud music, laughing, and purposefully-horrible singing. Pinkie's brown and pink-streaked hair fluttered around her face, as she rolled down her window, and I decided to join in as well. The wind roared past my ears, drowning out the song and my and Pinkie's voices.

As the gas station came into view, Pinkie and I rolled up the windows and turned off the radio, smiling broadly and laughing at the others' wild hair. I made a vain attempt to smooth mine down for a minutes, before giving up and getting out to pump the gas. With a full tank once again, I told Pinkie that I was beginning to feel a little tired. She nodded sadly and agreed that I should get home and get some rest.

"Bye, Pinks." I said, hugging her as I dropped her off at Sugar Cube Corner. She hugged back, exited, and waved from the storefront until I was out of sight. That night I had the best sleep I'd experienced in months.

A week had passed since I last stepped foot inside Apple Acres. A week had passed since I spoke to any member of the Apple family. A week had passed since I'd spoken with Pinkie Pie. Five days had passed since I told Scootaloo that if she wanted she could continue living with the Apples. She'd seemed so relieved, and accepted immediately. Completely alone for the first time in two years, I turned to drinking.

I still performed my daily exercises, still showered and ate and brushed my teeth, still worked at fixing up the outside of the house. Ivy had grown on the walls and into the shrubbery, the beautiful oak tree had gotten it's branches too long, the gutters sagged under the weight of the junk that clogged them, and the path was studded with weeds. I found it was much easier to perform these tasks with something to drink by my side, and that liquid varied between alcohol, Monster, Gatorade, and water. Working on my yard gave me a sense of accomplishment, of control, and it was wildly empowering. I could do so much on my crutches it was unbelievable.

Finishing up with whitewashing the fence, I stood up carefully and wiped my hands on the now paint-stained jeans I wore. I grabbed my crutches from where they rested against the mailbox, slipping them under my arms with a sigh of resignation. I made to head back inside when I heard a car door slam a few houses down, followed by shouting. I turned my head curiously, adjusting on my crutches so I was facing the house in question. There was a man and a woman, and the man was carrying boxes to his truck. Already there were four boxes in the truck bed, and from the way the woman stood I assumed he still had more to retrieve.

I wonder what a relationship is like...I quickly turned my mind off the subject and the couple, forcing it onto another, like how I needed to head into town and get some more supplies. I grumbled about it and went to the garage, typing in the code on the keypad and waiting for the door to open. Within the small structure was my father's teal-blue 1970 Challenger 528 Hemi Richmond 6-speed. Letting my hand trail the shiny paint-job I grinned at it's excellent condition. My father had absolutely loved this car. The door stuck a little as I pulled it open, but once it was open I tossed the crutches into the back and sat down on the tan leather seat. I grabbed the leather steering wheel and put the keys in the ignition, twisting and listening to the muscle car roar to life. When I first arrived I'd had Derpy help me give the car a full inspection, and with a few minor repairs the beast was ready to roar once more.

I pressed on the gas and left the garage, taking the controller out of my pocket and closing the door to the garage behind me. I turned onto the street and drove further into town, searching for the market I remembered vividly. The market used to be located on 5th Street, but imagine my surprise when it was gone and turned into a skate-park/roller rink. The new market was a supermarket located further up the road, across the street from a hardware store. The first place I stopped, however, was a gas station located further up the street from both buildings. Exiting the car and limping to the door, I got the sense that something wasn't right. Reflexively I pivoted on my good leg and faced the man behind me. He seemed disappointed that I'd noticed him, but reached into his pocket for something.

"'Lo there, sir. You new 'round here?" I asked in a conversational tone he had to be new, no one in their right mind would openly try to mess with me. They had too much respect for me, and besides that, High Pointe had a history of being extremely peaceful; a trait I once despised. The man before seemed to fall for my ploy, relaxing and withdrawing his hand from the inside pocket I assumed held a knife or some other kind of weapon. As if sent by the universe itself, a police car pulled into the lot before the man could respond, and he quickly slunk off.

BANG!

A new sound alerted me, and this sound came in the form of something hitting metal, like a dumpster. Don't go look. Seriously. Don't be a hero, you friggin' cripple. What could you possibly do, huh? Slowly limp to the rescue? Ooooo, I'm sure that will just send whoever is back there running away in terror! But seriously. It' not your concern. Get your gas and go shopping. For all of this, I still didn't listen. I leaned against the wall, my crutches were left in the car, and walked to corner, trying to be inconspicuous. Upon reaching my destination I peeked my head minutely around the corner, looking into the alley I hadn't expected to find. The light here was dim and I allowed my eyes to adjust. I saw trash all along the alley, graffiti on the walls of the buildings, trash dumpsters, trash bags, and trash cans.

One specific thing caught my eye, and I had to struggled against the immediate surge of white-hot anger that erupted in my chest. There, in the alley, was Applejack, arms held forcefully behind her, her bag in another figure's hands as they rifled around, taking her belongings. She was bruised and was standing awkwardly. A third figure stood a little apart, pointing a gun at the farm girl, knowing the device would keep her from struggling too much. I assessed each of the figures individually, deciding the figure with the gun and the figure holding Applejack were the two strongest and most dangerous, while the figure doing the rifling was incredibly weak. Making up my mind I slipped into the alley, keeping to the darker spots along the walls. I used trash bags and dumpsters to disguise my approach, adrenaline making me immune to the pain in my leg. I managed to roll and use the leg like a normal leg, unaware of any damage I could be inflicting.

My heart thudded in my chest as I got closer, my eyes narrowing and my head clearing. The figure with the gun was the closest to myself, and I sneaked up from behind, throwing a rock at it's wrist and making it drop the gun.

"HEY!" I shouted as I rushed forward and shoved the figure away, drawing my own pistol and sending a sickening pistol whip to the back of the rifler's head. The third and final figure, the one holding Applejack, got a kick in the knee and a sucker punch to the jaw. The one who'd held the gun got back to it's feet and punched me in chest, clearly having partaken in some sort of self-defense class, and gave me more punches to the chest and gut as it put more distance between myself and Applejack. I blocked desperately, but he kneed me in the gut and brought his elbow down on my spine. He proceeded to send a crushing kick to my side, and when I recovered I rolled away and backed up a bit. Applejack was weak when I'd arrived, sporting bruises and the like, and she'd been tossed to the side when I'd assaulted the figure holding her. I'd forgotten about her while getting pummeled, but the moment she crossed my mind I countered the figure's next strike and went on my own attack, shoving it a good distance away. I hadn't seen Applejack stand, nor had I heard her move, but she smacked the the figure in the back with a cast iron pan that had been discarded by some unknown person.

I pulled out my phone and called 9-1-1, explaining in detail what had transpired. I walked over to Applejack, having still not said any words to her, and tended to her more serious injuries. I tore off the bottom of my shirt and wrapped it around a major cut on her arm in a crude tourniquet. I dabbed at the cuts on her face with another piece of torn shirt, all the while ignoring the ungodly pain in my back, side, and leg. When the First Responders arrived, I showed them my Military ID and dog tags, and you'd think they were about to shit themselves. They took care of our injuries and quickly deduced that my ribs were broken and I might have some internal bleeding. Once the paramedics arrived I let them take me in a separate ambulance from Applejack, too tired to fight about it. 


	5. Chapter Five (Christmas Update)

/-/  
> Chapter Five: Rekindling Relationships/ Story: Coming Home/ by Joshua-GI-Carson/-/

It was the day after I saved Applejack in the alley, and after keeping the both of us in the hospital overnight, we'd been released about an hour ago. Looking at my iPod's clock I noticed the time: 7:30 AM.

I'd crashed hard last night, falling asleep the moment my doctor let me. I'd woken up the way I always did: fully awake as my eyes opened. I'd never had the grogginess others had, finding it easier to wake up in the morning than to sleep in. This tendency to wake up early had saved me the issue of being late to school as a teenager, and more recently had allowed me to be bright-eyed and aware, ready to take watch while my comrades were still rolling out of bed.

"Rainbow Dash?" a soft voice cut across my reminiscing, light and airy. I'd know that hesitant tone anywhere, and turned around to find Fluttershy standing there, hiding, as usual, behind her long pink hair.

"Hey, Fluttershy. Look...Pinkie Pie explained everything the other day, and...while I'm still a little hurt, I'm not really mad at you girls anymore...I have someone else to be mad at," before I'd even finished talking Fluttershy had run up to me and hugged me tightly. In my surprise I only just managed to lightly hug back before she had pulled away, wide eyes meeting mine fearfully.

"S-sorry!...I shouldn't have hugged you without asking...I mean...I should've asked if you...wanted a hug...and-" she didn't get far, not before I'd hugged her back, holding her head against my shoulder. Her silky pink hair ran over my fingers as she cried lightly, mumbling apology after apology.

"Flutters, you don't have to keep apologizing," I informed her as a slight smile rolled onto my face, a twinge of humor appearing in my voice at last.

"Right...sorry...I mean...sor...er..." she tried to avoid saying "sorry" again, and was clearly stumped on what to say in its place.

"It's cool, Flutters. Really," I assured, pushing her an arm's length away and staring into her eyes, brushing the curtain of hair behind her ear so both eyes were exposed.

"Okay...thank you, Dashie...So...c-could we hang out later?...Just the two of us?...I've m-missed being near you..." the timid woman before me hadn't changed much since her high school years, I observed, except physically. Her once-skinny frame had filled out: her figure now shapely, her breasts well-formed and easily a C-cup, her hair down to her hips and somehow silkier. I told her all of these things, watching a gentle blush take over her soft features.

"Howdy there, Rainbow," a voice called out tentatively, one I'd recognize anywhere. Turning around, I came face-to-face with Applejack, the girl I'd been dying to see since I deployed. Seeing her in the fluorescent lights of the hospital hallway and at a time when my emotions were in order for once, I was able to look at her more closely: able examine the way her hips swayed gently as she approached, able to observe the way blonde hair flowed down to her shoulders, where it was tied into a ponytail and draped over her left shoulder.

"Hey, AJ. Sorry about judo-flipping you a couple weeks ago. Promise I won't do it again," I said sheepishly, looking away from her emerald-green eyes as a nurse handed me my crutches and finished signing me out, "Thanks."

"It's fine, sugar, Ah'll be the first to admit Ah deserved it. 'bout the whole, 'not-bein'-there-when-you-needed-us" thing-" Applejack began, her eyes downcast and head lowered in obvious shame. I cut across her, however, stopping her explanation in its tracks.

"Pinkie told me everything, AJ. I'm not mad at you girls anymore, just...hurt. Not mad, though, except at my father." I sighed in exasperation, shifting my weight on my crutches in uncertainty.

"Ah'm so, so sorry 'bout him, sugar...Ah wish we could've found a way ta git him here. I know if Ah had a chance ta see mah Pa again...only ta have him stay away..." Applejack shook her head, too overcome with emotion to speak any longer. Her actions, however, spoke volumes. She came to me and hugged me. Not in the way Pinkie had, all excited and hard, squeezing the air from my lungs; nor in the way Fluttershy had, soft and gentle and timid. No, Applejack hugged me in her own way. The way a woman who had bounced several checks would hold her husband after he returned from war, or a long business trip. Her hug spoke of her sorrow, her regret, her shame. It spoke of our time apart, of our closeness as children. It told me all I needed to know, and in that moment I forgave my silly farm girl for everything she'd ever done.

I hugged back, using her for support more than my crutches. Applejack's skin still smelled of apples and fresh dirt, her shirt still that rusty-brown shade of red, her jeans still light blue and worn from years of work. I was stunned when I noticed her boots, however. They were brown, like all cowgirl/cowboy boots, but these had a set of three apples halfway up the side on both sides: plump, ripe, bright red apples. I'd know those boots anywhere, as I was the one to purchase them, before leaving. Their price tag alone had broken my piggy bank, but Applejack was worth every penny in my mind. She'd told me that she would never wear the boots but for fancy occasions, as they were too beautiful for everyday work. I'd felt a little hurt, though it was only recently that I understood why I'd been hurt. It's like the way a guy gives a girl his Letterman's jacket: he gives it to her because he wants to see something of his being worn by his girl, and because he wants other guys to see her wearing it and know that she was already taken. So now, seeing the boots in an obvious state of constant use...I felt the gap between us slowly closing, saw a tiny rope bridge trying to span the distance of the chasm.

"You're wearing the boots..." I remarked dumbly, pulling back and face-palming, "duh, sorry. That was dumb."

"It's fine, Rainbow, Ah am wearin' the boots. I thought...I dunno, I thought I'd start wearin 'em after y'all left. Have a little somethin' ta remind me of ya," the farmer said with a blush, shrugging and finding the toes of her boots incredibly fascinating. I chuckled and pulled her back into a hug, nuzzling into her neck the way we used to. As children, Applejack and I had always been incredibly close, and I was hoping we could be like that again. It would take time, of course, and I'd probably have to either get a job or enroll in college somewhere; if anyplace would take a cripple.

"Rainbow Dash?" Another familiar voice cut across my moment with Applejack, and the farmer pulled away so I could see past her. Rarity stood further down the hall, and upon spotting me she dropped everything she'd been holding: bags, cloth, sewing equipment, lacy trim, and other accessories. She came rushing down the hall and hugged me, kissing both of my cheeks first, "Oh darling , it really has been much too long! I'm so sorry about the past few years' debac-"

"It's totally forgiven, Rare - well, not totally, but almost totally. I've forgiven all of you." I cut across her statement as I'd done before with Applejack.

"Oh...thank you ever so much, darling! I was just coming to see you to let you know that you've inspired me to take an entirely new approach to fashion design. I was wondering if you'd like to be a-"

"RAINBOW! Oh my I'm so sorry!" whatever Rarity had wanted to say was interrupted by a loud squeal followed by the sound of running feet. Rarity barely had time to back away before Twilight Sparkle slammed into me, hugging me so tight I yelped. She lessened the pressure and backed up just as quickly as she'd rushed in, "Sorry! I didn't mean to squish you! Are you alright? All...er...un-squished?" She asked as Rarity came up to me and straightened my long-sleeved shirt before backing out of the way.

"Yeah, Twilight, I'm fine. And you don't have to apologize for anything. I've already forgiven, though I can't say I've forgotten. In time I certainly will, however." I tried for a brave smile, and found it was much easier to pull off than I'd originally feared. Having my friends all together in one place again...just sharing in the experience that was our bizarre friendship...I felt so much better. My arms seemed to come up by themselves, and when I spoke my voice sounded like someone else's, "Group hug."

Immediately, five bodies surrounded mine in a tight, tight embrace; none of the girls needed to be told twice when a group hug was initiated. Unfortunately, as Applejack and I had been dismissed from the hospital's care, a nurse was quick to come to us and tell us we had to leave. Slowly, slowly, the pain of loneliness was beginning to ebb. Despite all this happiness and gusto, I still felt some emptiness in my heart. I felt like, even though I had my old friends back, something was missing. Pinpointing the source of the loneliness was easy, the hard part was thinking of a way to actually do something about it.

Two Weeks Later

HAPPY HOLIDAYS, HIGH POINTE!

The banners, the Christmas lights, the shopfronts, the store windows, they all screamed the same message; all screamed well-wishing statements. The inhabitants of High Pointe, Michigan always got really into the Christmas spirit, leaving free mugs of hot chocolate just inside their doors. The mugs were for those carolers or normal customers to warm up with after traversing the snow-covered streets. Along with each mug was served a candy cane or peppermint, as well as a little Holiday card containing a $5 dollar gift card to their respective stores. Eventually, my plan was complete, and I stood on the edge of the Old High Pointe Memorial Fountain, the water frozen in arcs from the jets to the frozen basin, illuminated by colored lights refracting off the many surfaces.

"I don't want a lot for Christmas There is just one thing I need I don't care about the presents Underneath the Christmas tree

I just want you for my own More than you could ever know Make my wish come true All I want for Christmas is you, yeah. "

The entire square was quiet as I broke out into song, holding a microphone and silently praising Derpy and the Spirits of Christmas for helping me get a temporary stage set up during the night.

"I don't want a lot for Christmas There is just one thing I need And I don't care about the presents Underneath the Christmas tree

I don't need to hang my stocking There upon the fireplace Santa Claus won't make me happy With a toy on Christmas Day

I just want you for my own More than you could ever know Make my wish come true All I want for Christmas is you You, baby."

People from all across town seemed to hear the sound of my voice, and all appeared to be drawn to it. Shop owners left their stores with their signs turned to "CLOSED," and last-minute shoppers abandoned their lists, flocking to the ever-growing crowd. I felt honored that so many people were fascinated by my voice, and not even that, but that so many wore bright smiles. Of course, I always knew I was awesome.

"Oh, I won't ask for much this Christmas I won't even wish for snow And I'm just gonna keep on waiting Underneath the mistletoe

I won't make a list and send it To the North Pole for Saint Nick I won't even stay awake to Hear those magic reindeer click

'Cause I just want you here tonight Holding on to me so tight What more can I do?  
>Baby, all I want for Christmas is you You, baby."<p>

I don't know how to describe what I was feeling as I continued singing. My body seemed to be acting of it's own volition as the song continued on, my hips beginning to sway in time with the beat. The music ripped through the crisp winter air, and the sounds of people whistling and clapping in approval gave me more confidence, as if I'd ever been lacking.

"Oh, all the lights are shining So brightly everywhere And the sound of children's Laughter fills the air

And everyone is singing I hear those sleigh bells ringing Santa, won't you bring me the one I really need?  
>Won't you please bring my baby to me?<p>

Oh, I don't want a lot for Christmas This is all I'm asking for I just want to see my baby Standing right outside my door

Oh, I just want you for my own More than you could ever know Make my wish come true Baby, all I want for Christmas is you You, baby."

Silence. Complete, awed silence. It was a full minute before people seemed to come out of their trance and applaud. When they did, it seemed like the entire square erupted into gracious applause, filling me with pride and, surprisingly, humbling me quite a bit.

"ENCORE!...ENCORE ENCORE!" The cry echoed off the buildings and structures around the square and, blushing, I humbly obliged, digging into my repertoire of Christmas carols/songs. The one I selected certainly wouldn't earn me any bonus points with the mothers in the crowd, but I think the men would be a different story. I signaled to Vinyl, the DJ who was blaring the background music, which number on the track to play, and she winked in response, lowering her shades back onto her face.

"Santa baby, just slip a Sable under the tree for me;  
>Been an awful good girl, Santa baby,<br>So hurry down the chimney tonight."

The first verse done, tons of cheers and claps drifted up to me, as well as many wolf-whistles, on account of my dipping and swinging my hips to the beat.

"Santa baby, a '54 convertible too, light blue;  
>I'll wait up for you, dear; Santa baby,<br>So hurry down the chimney tonight.

Think of all the fun I've missed;  
>Think of all the fellas that I haven't kissed;<br>Next year I could be just as good...if you check off my Christmas list."

I blew a kiss and winked to the crowd at large, receiving reinvigorated applause, though my eyes had singled out specific recipient: a farm girl with hair the color of straw and eyes the color of bright emeralds. Her soft blush told me she knew to whom I was blowing the kiss.

"Santa baby, I want a yacht and really that's not a lot;  
>Been an angel all year; Santa baby,<br>So hurry down the chimney tonight.

Santa honey, one little thing I really need...  
>The deed...to a platinum mine, Santa baby,<br>So hurry down the chimney tonight.

Santa cutie, and fill my stocking with the duplex and checks;  
>Sign your 'X' on the line, Santa cutie,<br>and hurry down the chimney tonight."

This time around, I tossed my coat onto the ground and revealed my form-fit thermal sweater, earning even more applause; as if that were possible.

"Come and trim my Christmas tree with some decorations bought at Tiffany's;  
>I really do believe in you;<br>Let's see if you believe in me...

Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing... A ring...  
>I don't mean on the phone; Santa baby,<br>So hurry down the chimney tonight.

Hurry down the chimney tonight Hurry, tonight!"

A seductive giggle rounded out my performance. You'd think the square itself was cheering in approval, the applause and cheering was so intense.

"Thank you, High Pointe! It's been a blast!" I informed them, signaling to Derpy to come help me down. Unfortunately, the tree crew mistook my signal to be theirs, and drove through the crowd slowly with a large Christmas tree in tow. This particular surprise had come to my mind because, due to monetary issues, High Pointe had not had an official Christmas tree lighting in ten years. The Mayor would (hopefully) be surprised to find my donation of $1,000 sitting on her desk the following morning. After two long weeks, my plan was complete, and I can't say I'd ever seen High Pointians be happier. As the tree was raised, I gave yet another signal, and all around the square and the streets leading away, Christmas lights were turned on and people "oooh"ed and "ahhh"ed at the spectacle.

I could tell this was going to be a fantastic Christmas.  
> <p>


End file.
